


More Comfortable Holding ...?

by Raikishi



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Felix, Explicit Sexual Content, Hair-pulling, M/M, Public Sex, Rough Kissing, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teasing, Top My Unit | Byleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22858753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raikishi/pseuds/Raikishi
Summary: “What’s this about?” Byleth asks, licking his lips cautiously, wondering if he was tasting blood.“It’s my birthday,” Felix says the words like a challenge and then glares at a spot behind Byleth’s left ear instead.Birthday sex for our favorite swordsman
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 10
Kudos: 165





	More Comfortable Holding ...?

Felix is brusque.

Short-tempered.

And prickly at best.

So when he grabs Byleth’s collar after their spar, when they are alone on the training grounds at an hour most would be in bed and smashes his lips against Byleth’s as a first kiss, Byleth cannot bring himself to be terribly surprised.

Pained.

But not terribly surprised.

So Byleth only parts his mouth with a sigh, one of exasperation rather than passion, and allows it to happen.

The kiss is messy. Clumsily aimed. From a man unaccustomed to doing so. Nothing like the tavern pick ups Byleth had had with women and men who smiled easily and knew how to please.

No, this was far rougher. Cruder. Felix bites at Byleth’s mouth as if trying to prove something. His fingers, usually so dexterous and light over a blade, are clumsy at the buttons of Byleth’s shirt front. And his tongue, too rough, too insistent, presses hard at the seam of Byleth's lips, demanding entry.

Byleth tolerates it for a moment. Kissing back until it proves difficult and then sets a hand on the small of Felix’s back, arms around the slender curve of Felix’s waist, drawing him close. But as he moves to gentle the kiss, Felix retreats, cheeks aflame. Looking at Byleth almost accusatorily. As if Byleth had been the one to have pressed on Felix’s limits.

“What’s this about?” Byleth asks, licking his lips cautiously, wondering if he was tasting blood.

“It’s my birthday,” Felix says the words like a challenge and then glares at a spot behind Byleth’s left ear instead.

“Oh?” feigned of course.

Byleth knew the birthdays of all his students. He was quite proud of that. He went to great lengths to ensure the birthday tea times were delightful and pleasant even for the most resistant students – _ahem_ , Hubert.

“It’s my birthday,” Felix says again. Quieter. More anticipatory. Full of uncommon open desire.

“Happy birthday,” Byleth says and because he is accustomed to indulging Felix, drops a kiss on Felix’s lips.

The kiss is softer this time. Sweeter. And Byleth enjoys it a lot more when he doesn’t feel the rough clang of their teeth together. He hums a little into the kiss, enjoying the way Felix curls into him as if starved for affection. Likes the little burr of red creeping down Felix’s neck. Likes the impatient squirming as Felix tries to take control but ultimately surrenders on a sweet sigh.

And then, when they pull apart, Byleth decides he loves the heavy-lidded half-dazed look on Felix’s face. As if Felix were not quite there. Struggling to latch onto something. His eyes flick to Byleth’s lips and then up to his eyes. The blush on Felix’s cheeks growing faster. This time, Felix does not pull away, breathing quiet words against Byleth’s lips, his amber eyes dark.

“More.”

“Oh, yes, of course - your present,” Byleth says, indulgent.

With some shuffling - oddly, Felix seems intent on being pressed against Byleth’s front - Byleth unhooks the new sword from his hip.

A ceremonial sword, finely crafted and beautifully shaped. The handle is golden and delicate, an intricate design of a dragon taking flight. The blade has a good weight to it. Not a mere ceremonial sword but one good enough for battle.

Byleth relishes in Felix’s next breath, hearing the surprise in it as he takes the blade. He thinks Felix will pull away now. Swing it a few times to test the feel in his hands but he does not. He only traces the hilt for a long moment before nodding. Tucks it to his hip.

And remains where he is, against Byleth’s front, finding a grip once more in Byleth’s shirt front. That’s going to leave terrible wrinkles.

“You don’t like it?” Byleth asks, a little flutter of disappointment in his stomach. He’d spent ages with Anna, driving her half-mad as he’d dug through her wares searching for something suitable.

“I like it.”

“Okay?” Byleth blinks at his student, a little confused when Felix only stares at him, “Do you not want to –“

Felix clicks his tongue. The blush coming back once more as he tries to work the words out of his mouth. They never come. Instead, Felix only glares and presses himself more firmly against Byleth.

And well, Byleth never was able to push Felix away in the rare moments the swordsman leaned into his arms in a silent demand for affection. Felix is a nice weight against Byleth. Not as slender as he looks but full of lithe muscle, coiled tight, ready to spring. His hair holds the faint scent of woodsmoke and Almyran tea leaves – ah, right Felix had been on kitchen duty last night with Annette. Which meant the full class rotation was up once more and Byleth would have to work on creating the next schedules and working those in with the next lessons. He’d have to rethink their goals a little too now that they were all –

With a little growl, Felix sinks his teeth into Byleth’s throat. An angry breath plumes over Byleth’s jawline. A silent admonition.

“Ouch, Felix - what on ear–“

Byleth’s shirt goes loose, the buttons losing their grip, one of them clattering to the training ground floor as Felix glares at him mutinously and tugs again. Loosens a second button.

 _A cat looking you dead in the eye as they shove your cup to the floor,_ Byleth thinks and as if Felix had heard the comparison, he scowls harder and jerks at Byleth’s shirt once more until it starts to tear.

A calloused palm slides against Byleth’s bare chest, groping roughly at a nipple as Felix jerks his hips down hard and rough, and that was definitely an erec–

“Ah,” Byleth breathes, nearly displacing Felix as he lurches forward. He curves a hand over Felix’s jaw. Tightens his grip when he feels Felix resist at first and he doesn’t miss the little shudder that runs down Felix’s back at the rough movement.

“Are you –“ Byleth only manages the two words before Felix’s mouth finds his again.

Just as rough as the first time. Full of teeth. Biting and insistent.

Byleth could roll his eyes at the insistence with which Felix did not want him speaking on this act. He sinks his fingers into Felix’s hair, tugging slightly and then yanking hard when Felix does not budge and –

Felix shuts his mouth with a hard click, his cheeks and throat skin deliciously red as he slaps a hand over his mouth. As if he can grasp at the wanton moan he’d released and shove it back down his throat. And well, that wouldn’t do.

Byleth reaches for Felix’s hands, shoving him backwards to the ground, a little smirk tugging Byleth’s lips as Felix flails ineffectively. Weak half attempts that go against the very core of Felix’s being.

Byleth is not deluded enough to think himself a particularly powerful man. He’s no Dimitri, whose height and stature combined with the brute strength of his crest would allow him to hold Felix to the ground with a pinky. No – Byleth well aware of the similarities in terms of build and strength. Knows well that during their sparring sessions it’s not power that allows Byleth to overwhelm Felix but strategy.

Experience.

Wicked hunger twists low in Byleth’s belly as he looks down at Felix. At the disheveled state of his hair. Stray strands sticking to reddened cheeks. Amber eyes wide, the pupils dark and unsteady. His mouth, lips slack and parted.

_Ready for a cock._

With a little growl and mind spinning from the errant thought, Byleth slots his thigh between Felix’s leg, grip tightening like shackles on Felix’s wrists when the man shouts and bucks. He licks into Felix’s slackened mouth, slides his tongue over Felix’s in a slow drag that makes them both shudder. Sinks his teeth on Felix’s lip and then his jaw. His throat.

A moan wobbles into the air, unsteady against Byleth’s ear, rumbling into the ground as Byleth cants his hip to drag them closer together, thigh flexing against the feel of Felix’s erection against his leg.

Byleth releases one wrist when Felix starts to rut, noticing with no small amount of amusement Felix does not make a single attempt to move his freed hand though his other continues to jerk in Byleth’s grip.

A false protest.

_“What a disappointment. If you're looking for a passionate affair, you've got the wrong man. Go find someone else. I've spent my life avoiding love and romance. They're distractions. Blades, blood and battle. That's what I'm made of and nothing else. If someone saw us, however, this may look like an amorous meeting. You'll have to settle for being mistaken as my lover.”_

What would they be mistaken for now?

Byleth pops the buttons of Felix’s vest and shirt in quick succession, sliding his hands over smooth skin and dense muscles, tweaking hard against a nipple, delighting in the rough moan and tremble as Felix arches his back, effectively shoving his chest firmly against Byleth’s hands. Desire rolling off his body in waves and well, who is Byleth to resist such a delectable meal.

Felix whimpers as Byleth bites down on his throat, tilting his chin further to allow Byleth purchase. Wet gasps punch the air as he bares his neck, his thighs tight around Byleth’s hip, squeezing together as he ruts jerkily against Byleth’s leg, blindly chasing pleasure he’d not known to seek out prior. His entire body opens up like a blooming flower. So desperately eager it makes Byleth’s head swim with giddiness.

They lie there on the training ground for a long moment. Byleth letting him rut, responding slowly to the jerky desperate motions, drawing Felix into kiss after kiss until Felix was panting for breath and trembling. Something like a plead working in his mouth but too twisted up on itself to ever leave him.

Felix’s hips go jerkier. More erratic. Ready for release.

Byleth chooses right then to pull away.

The motion wrenches out a stricken cry from Felix who grabs for him with desperate urgency.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Felix snarls. The words grounded flat. Not a question. A demand.

He looks at Byleth wide-eyed, looking dazed and half present but fast coming around to irritated. Tinged with desperate. A thick cocktail of need that makes desire rumble in Byleth’s chest.

Byleth hides his smile, tucks it seamlessly behind the fold of his natural poker face. Tilts his head in mock confusion, “To bed? That was a good spar.”

“Spar?” the world is a hissed whisper at first and then repeated louder. More incredulous verging on hysterical, “Spar?!”

“I would have thought you’d test the new sword this bout but if you truly didn’t like it… perhaps for your next birthday, I should try a dagger?”

Felix stares, mouth agape, his eyes flitting all over Byleth’s face so sharp and prying it feels like being pecked by a thousand sparrows, “Y-you cannot _possibly_ be that dense. I know you play blind and deaf to the others as they dance around you but you cannot possibly think that –“

His mouth clicks closed. Amber eyes narrowed and shrewd. Realization drawing over his face like curtains.

“Fucking bastard,” Felix curses lowly as he scrambles up, looking for all intents and purposes as if he would headbutt Byleth in the mouth, “Think you’re funny, do you?”

“Yes - I inherited my father’s humor,” Byleth says deadpan.

He threads his fingers into Felix’s locks when the man tries for another kiss, holding him well at bay with nothing but that. It stirs a heavy coil of arousal in Byleth’s stomach as he imagines silk locks spilling down a slender back, imagines them coiling in his hand. Imagines –

Byleth _yanks_ , the rough movement loosening the rest of Felix’s hair from the band, and another moan rends the air.

“Come on,” Felix spits, more than halfway to furious by now.

“What, Felix?” Byleth presses, leaning enticingly close, letting his breath plume over the bottom of Felix’s lip, relishing the restless shiver that goes through him, “You have to actually ask.”

Byleth watches Felix’s mouth work. Cannot pretend he does not enjoy the pretty gleam of Felix’s bottom lip as he tries for words. Relishes the way Felix keeps looking to his mouth, fingers tapping a restless beat at Byleth’s hip. Something eager and heated simmering for the moment only seconds from bursting into flame.

Silent syllables twist on the tip of Felix’s tongue, half starts tripping the air between them until Byleth, feeling gracious, leans in.

“Anything you ask, Felix,” Byleth says lowly, slotting his mouth over Felix’s jawline to feel the tremor on his tongue, “I can do.”

“Fuck me,” the words fly as if released from a tightly strung bow, strikingly powerful in its desperation, “Now. Today. Let’s fuck. That’s my present.”

Byleth grunts as Felix yanks at his shirt again with renewed ruthlessness. As if to allay whatever discomfort he was feeling at having revealed a vulnerability. This time a definitive tear rends the air, the shirtfront utterly in tatters, no more than a few ribbons of white.

“My shirt,” Byleth says mournfully but then Felix is crowding in, slotting his mouth over Byleth’s for a kiss that is much nicer, and it becomes a problem no longer.

The kiss is far less painful. A little too wet but steady and careful. With the same cautious mimicry, Felix used when attempting one of Byleth’s sword forms.

“I asked,” Felix says, his voice barely above a whisper and then he shoves at Byleth as if intent on taking them both to the ground this time.

Byleth steadies himself. Resists, “No.”

“No!?” Felix rears back as if he’s ready to grab his blade and demand a real spar. Without training rules.

“I don’t have lubricant here,” Byleth explains, eying Felix’s hand as it twitches towards the new sword on his hip, still unable to stop the amusement bubbling in his chest at Felix’s red-faced stunned stare. Byleth tilts his head, “But my room does. Shall we go?”

A beat and then Felix slaps at Byleth’s chest. A quick there and gone sting.

“You –! Why are you asking like that?” Felix asks and he shoves off Byleth, storming off until he realizes Byleth has not followed. He stomps back, his steps a little uneven with the situation in his pants. His eyes threatening retaliation for the tease as he snaps his head, gesturing towards the door, “Well?!”

“One moment …,” Byleth says, wanting to be considerate.

He grabs for Felix who makes a sound like a squawk as Byelth wrestles him onto the ground and pitches in half as Byleth gropes at the tent in Felix’s pants. A string of curses dropping over Byleth’s shoulders like rocks –

And really that was a very rude thing to say; Byleth had a very nice mother. Jeralt had said so.

“I can’t imagine it’s easy to walk with this,” Byleth explains patiently, finding the buttons to Felix’s pants, dexterous fingers snapping them apart and doing the polite thing by not simply tearing the pants down the crotch.

“This better not be another – you goddess damned better follow through–!” the last word trembles, exiting in a long ‘ooo’ sound that spirals outwards as Byleth licks a steady line down his cock from tip to base.

Felix husks a groan, the tail of it smothered tight as he slaps both hands over his mouth, nearly vibrating out of his skin when Byleth suckles at the cockhead. A twist of his tongue and a hard suction and Byleth is rewarded with the siren song of Felix’s deep groans and high breathy gasps. The melody, sweet and intoxicating as honeyed mead. Felix’s body reacts with far more honesty than his mouth ever could. His thighs shake around Byleth’s head as if struck by a Thunder spell. The blush on his face spreads fast to his throat. And his breath burns the air in unsteady blurts as he arches into Byleth’s mouth.

“Fuck,” Felix gasps, the word swelling over a breathy moan, twisting higher in desperation, “I-if you stop now – I-I swear – I’m never going to –“

He doesn’t finish the word, too caught up in his pleasure, head turned to the skies, a high keening noise aimed for the stars, the sound sweeping into Byleth’s mind, coating him in heavy pleasure. Want twists Byleth’s stomach and he sucks harder, rolling his hips to relieve himself of some pressure as a greedy hunger settles over his skin. He can taste precum on his tongue, thick and heady, rolls the taste in his mouth like the expensive wine the mercs would buy after a successful mission. His focus narrows on Felix’s heavy gasps, entire body attuned and humming to the melodic ring of each sharp whine, wanting to hear more. Needing to feel more. Wanting it over his skin like a tangible thing to be worn.

Byleth rolls Felix’s balls in his hands, scratching his thumbnail gently over the heated flesh, relaxing his throat as Felix chokes and bucks like a raging stallion, a frantic whine tearing from Felix’s mouth and twisting into desperate words.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop,” over and over like a prayer. Well - more like a threat.

And Byleth, while deeply amused with Felix’s furious but largely false protests, decides he likes this far far better. He slides his mouth downwards, holding down the swordsman’s hip with a touch hard enough to bruise. And wasn’t that a thought to have his marks so dark and obvious right here, laid into Felix’s skin –

Struck with sharp urgency, Byleth slots a knuckle against Felix’s perineum grinding roughly, another finger pressing insistently against the dry rim of Felix’s hole, drawing only from the thick dribble of saliva and precum leaking down Felix’s balls. Slicking his finger up with the puddling mess, one hand sinking into the hard muscle of Felix’s right leg, Byleth slides the digit slowly but firmly into Felix’s ass, shuddering at the welcoming heat and slowly crooking the digit until Felix wails.

“Fuck. _Fuck!_ ” Felix screams into his arm sleeves, folding himself in half as he cums, his hands digging roughly in Byleth’s shoulders, nails like talons as he shudders through his orgasm.

Byleth pulls off with a wet little pop, moving up to kiss at the glimmer of tears in the corners of Felix’s eyes, gently combing aside the dark blue locks clinging to Felix’s cheeks.

Beautiful, Byleth thinks. Felix holds the dangerous wicked beauty of a blade, made with deep obsidian, fracturing with the same sharpness. Stark lines of pleasure scoring over his body, bright as obsidian’s conchoidal fractures.

Felix’s hands tears at the back of Byleth’s already ruined shirt, nails scoring deep lines of pained pleasure over Byleth’s shoulder blades. A clear glimpse of the night ahead.

Byleth shudders at the thought, desire dancing on the back of his tongue like a hidden sweet, body thrumming with the thought of taking Felix to bed and suddenly his room feels too far. His earlier teasing stupid and pointless, capable of doing nothing but delay more pleasure. Byleth rises to his feet, taking Felix with him, carrying him in his arms as a knight carries his princess.

Felix would hate the comparison. Any other time, Byleth imagines he’d be parrying Felix’s too hard blow for even attempting but here and now the swordsman manages only a garbled grunt. He goes limp in Byleth’s arms, his head hanging in Byleth’s neck as if too heavy to hold up.

“Better not let anyone see me,” Felix slurs, the words barely understandable. Each vowel running into each other and crumbling to pieces.

Byleth’s grip only tightens, a little two-step trip of jealousy stuttering in his chest at the thought. What a suggestion. Byleth was a mercenary through and through. And like all mercenary, kept what they’d rightfully earned well protected from anyone else.

Felix elbows his way out of Byleth’s arms at the door. His pride no doubt preventing him from being carried over the threshold but not preventing his near frantic rummaging through all of Byleth’s drawers. Byleth hides his little amused smile as he shuts the door. He helpfully lights the candle in the corner, smiling at the little grunt of thanks from Felix and then crosses the room.

“Here,” Byleth offers, holding up the little vial Felix had no doubt been searching for.

“Under your bed?” Felix looks as if he wants to make a joke at that, lips curling, but Byleth cuts him off.

“For when I imagine you at night.”

As expected Felix sputters and glares at him, aware by now of the tease. He yanks his pants down with sharp angry jerks, tearing his shirt and vest from his body as if it were a nuisance. The world’s angriest striptease.

His cock is still flaccid, damp against his thigh and there was a red print on his thighs in the shape of Byleth’s hands. Felix hesitates for a moment, glancing at the print as if he’d not realized and Byleth does not miss the way his cock twitches at that.

Strong hands yank at Byleth’s shirt again. Threatening.

“Take this off,” Felix orders, “Before I rip the rest off.”

“Not much remaining,” Byleth sighs as he obeys, his breath catching when Felix drops to his knees and slots his mouth over Byleth’s erection.

Damp heat puddles in Byleth’s groin, the blood leaving his head so quickly he is dizzy with it. As if sensing his thoughts, Felix grins, a barely noticeable but terribly wicked thing. Full of smug victory. Looking very much the same as the time he’d disarmed Byleth with one of his own moves.

“Felix, you do not –“ Byleth nearly bites through his tongue, hips jerking forward of its own volition as Felix tears the buttons of his pants and sucks Byleth full into Felix’s mouth, “Ah –!”

Byleth groans, a mangled little cry as his head lolls back. He fists his hands into the bed, trying to still his hips and remain steady, aching as he holds himself like a statue for Felix to examine and explore. It does not escape his notice that Felix moves in blatant mimicry of Byleth's ministrations on the training grounds. Speaks volumes of the breadth of experience Felix had.

But as with anything, Felix is singleminded, prone to pushing his limits. He fast leaves behind the slow steady strokes in favor of his own pace. Too rough and too quick. Raking up heat with the harsh movements of a man trying to start fire. He twists his hand over Byleth’s cock. Feeds himself more and more until he chokes, amber eyes glittering with defiance as he does, a deep groan working up out of his chest Byleth feels down to his bones.

The noise wrenches out a sharp twist of pleasure deep in Byleth’s chest, a pleasure torn out from power. Unable to help himself, he sinks his hands into Felix’s hair, yanking hard, blood racing as Felix whimpers into the grip. It makes Byleth brave. Turns his touch rough.

He fucks into Felix’s mouth, something thick and darkly rich on his tongue as he watches.

Felix looks at him defiantly, pretty red lips spread tight and full over Byleth’s cock and a brilliant blurt of pleasure slams into Byleth as the crown of his cock bumps the back of Felix’s throat. Unable to help himself, Byleth twists the locks in his hand and holding Felix in place as he shoves forward and forward until Felix chokes again. The sound is mangled by a thick groan this time.

A hot little noise that makes Byleth ruthless. Makes him yank so that Felix’s mouth parts wider. Makes Byleth fuck harder into that warm welcoming heat. Knowing that Felix wouldn’t resist. Wouldn’t pull away. It’s a heady sensation, pumps though Byleth’s blood like the Crest of Flames, licking at his skin.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he hisses, the sound bitten and half-smothered into his palm as his hips hitch hard into Felix’s mouth, faster and faster until –

“Why?!” Felix snarls, his voice shredded, when Byleth pulls him away.

Amber eyes strike through Byleth like a whip. Holding him accountable. Demanding to know why he’d been denied –

Byleth’s hands jitter a little as he yanks Felix upwards into his lap, using his knees to butt Felix’s legs apart. He squeezes one cheek, spreading Felix open, hitching his hips so his cock bumps against Felix’s still dry opening.

“Yeah,” Felix says, suddenly agreeable. He pitches forward to wrest the vial from Byleth’s clenched fist.

Byleth’s palm twinges left empty and throbbing from where he’d clutched the vial too tightly.

Felix’s gaze doesn’t waver, the fire in them like the wicked heat of a branding iron, as he pops the vial cap with his mouth. Spits it somewhere across the room.

“Hey now, you’re going to spill the remainder all over my bed if you don’t –“

“Not going to have a remainder,” Felix grunts, “Buy another one. With your monthly stipend. I couldn’t give a shit.”

Well –

That was –

Felix grins, all canines and fearless challenge as Byleth’s grip on his ass tightens enough to bruise.

“Do you need help?” Byleth asks as Felix slicks up his fingers, the substance gleaming in the mage light.

“No,” said too fast. Almost embarrassed.

Felix presses his head into Byleth’s throat, his face very obviously turned away from Byleth as he slides a finger into himself. Too rough, as always. He fucks himself steadily, fast working his way up to two and the easy rhythm and familiar movements reveal what he had not wished to admit.

“Well,” Byleth says, sinking his teeth deep into Felix’s throat just to feel him buck and gasp, “I hope you are thinking of me when you practice this.”

“Who else?” Felix snaps, arching his back to work in three now, blocking Byleth’s view and that was simply unacceptable.

Felix utters a stifled yelp, his eyes wide as Byleth wrestles him on his back. He spreads his legs with little prompt. Obviously expecting a cock. He grunts, lips quivering as if trying to shape words but releases no protest as Byleth slides two fingers into him. He pulls out his own fingers out to grasp at the bedsheets, body unraveling like yarn.

Felix hole had begun to loosen but Byleth spreads his fingers insistently against the rim, working the muscle in slow steady movements. Toying at the puckered rim of Felix’s ass, entranced by the thready strands of lubricant and obscene wetness Felix’s cock was leaking onto his hipbone. Each press inside made Felix’s cock jump. Each slow drag made Felix whimper. Like playing the world’s most delectable instrument.

Hunger draws over Byleth’s skin like a coat of needles. A thousand pinpricks of awareness. He tugs at his cock, his strokes aligning with the steady fuck of his fingers into Felix’s hole until one pass rubs raw at Felix, making him scream into his arm as his hips lunge forward like a loosened trebuchet against Byleth.

“Need to be inside you,” Byleth swears tightly, desperation hanging on his tongue, nearly drooling as he lines himself up.

He fucks into Felix in one smooth glide, his own shout muffled into Felix’s throat at the warm wet heat. Byleth slots his mouth over Felix’s to swallow down Felix’s low groans as if he can draw desire from Felix’s tongue.

“M-move,” Felix begs, his voice cracking and then shattering apart as Byleth fucks him, eyes sliding closed as Byleth pulls out fully and then slams back in.

Byleth keeps that rhythm, groaning each time the cockhead catches at Felix’s rim and the swordsman quivers as if shocked. Fire twists in Byleth’s belly like serpents, as he yanks at Felix’s hips, wrestling Felix’s legs up high until Felix’s knees were at his chest, angling the next thrust.

“ _Fuck!_ ” the word is screamed into a pillow, hastily buried, a blush burning down from Felix’s throat down to his chest, spreading like a wildfire as Byleth plunges in over and over, purposefully rubbing roughly against Felix’s prostate.

Byleth is well beyond gentleness, aching to own. To grasp and pull. And _yank_. And so he does, snatching the pillow from Felix’s head to grab for his mouth. Byleth licks at his lips, desire raking his chest open at the unsteady look Felix gives him. A look that says he’s not quite there. That his favorite student who is so sharply attuned to anything and everything had been brought down to this humble fading state. Glazed. Delirious. Broken apart by need.

Byleth maintains a near brutal pace, making sure he pulls out far enough each time to see Felix’s hole part open and contract. To watch it tighten, searching for something lost. And then to break Felix open with a ruthless thrust that rams down on Felix’s prostate each time. Moving faster, more ruthless as Felix starts to whine and gasp wetly behind Byleth’s hand.

Byleth can feel Felix’s orgasm drawing all over him. Can see the way as his entire body tenses, tightening up, trembling like a blown leaf. Pleasure bowing his back, creeping down and down –

"I-I'm gon –"

And Byleth slams his hips hard just as Felix jerks, shouting into Byleth’s palm as he sprays all over the bed.

Byleth doesn't slow. Something wicked and full of desire - a mercenary's greed - falling over him like stones as he fucks Felix through his orgasm as if he can punch out each drop of pleasure.

“Apologies,” Byleth pants, gritting his teeth, his own orgasm creeping up over him like a hood as Felix tightens up all around him like a clamp. Byleth's hips work still faster, the lewd slap of flesh like a roar in his ears, “Almost - I-I – bear with me a moment – _ah_ , yes, just like –“

Byleth snarls, pulling out one last time to ram into Felix, entire body drawing down on Felix like a wave. The two of them sharing a groan as Felix hitches his hips. Tightens up. Seeking to please –

Byleth comes so hard he curls over Felix like a full shield, gripping him so tight there were sure to be bruises tomorrow as he sinks his teeth into Felix’s shoulder. Burying the scream into Felix's skin.

They cling to one another for a moment, hips bumping erratically, the lewd squelch of lubricant and seed tripping into the air alongside their moans. Byleth groans at the damp that slicks his thighs as he comes back to himself. Loosens a sore jaw from Felix’s shoulder. Slowly, he pulls his hand away from Felix's mouth and arms.

“Get off,” Felix grunts after a long moment but it sounds like, “Geroff.”

“Heavy,” he says when Byleth does not move, “Hurvey.”

It's not until Felix starts to squirm that Byleth pulls out of him. The two of them sharing a grimace at the uncomfortable sensation.

“Apolo –“ Byleth starts but it’s quickly cut off by the nip of Felix’s teeth against Byleth’s bottom lip.

With a fond sigh, Byleth presses a light kiss to Felix’s temple before he rises to rummage for a cloth, cleaning them both up as best he can - or as much as Felix will tolerate.

“I’m glad you liked your present,” Byleth says, sliding back into bed to kiss Felix’s forehead. Then his eyelid. Then nose. Over and over until the swordsman snorts and butts his head up to nip at Byleth’s jaw.

“You better not be fucking referring to the sword.”

“Oh? Are you more accustomed to grasping another handle instead of your sword now?”

A moment’s beat and then –

“You damn _fucking_ –”

“Ouch! Felix …”

**Author's Note:**

> Felix Hugo Fraldarius: most likely to stab you during sex
> 
> My computer crashed halfway through the next Ties that Bind chapter and I lost that ((screams into the abyss)) so I wrote this instead because otherwise I'm going to cry


End file.
